Mortality
by ameliagianna
Summary: Peter/Olivia fluff -oneshot-


She didn't even realize she was biting her lip until she tasted the blood. It was a decent sized tear, she would definitely get flak about it later, but she couldn't feel a thing.

The blood tasted metallic and salt against the smoky sweetness of the whiskey lingering on her tongue. She swiped it over the already-swollen flesh and the wound tingled for a short moment, but the feeling was lost when she found his eyes.

She had to turn her head to see him properly, his eyes following her every move, boring into her as if he could see down to her cells, maybe even past that. He could see her soul. And that was strangely okay.

He was on his side in the bed as he watched her, a muscular arm tucked up under his head and pressing his ear against his head. The other arm thrown over her bare stomach, tracing a thoughtless circle with his finger over one of her left ribs.

His eyes did not move, did not waver or change as she looked back at him, but his top lip pulled just slightly, an untrained eye would have missed it. But she knew him, knew that-for whatever reason she somehow couldn't read-he was purposely not smiling.

She let her lip slip out from between her teeth, the bleeding long stopped from her probing tongue, and he watched it with a sort of longing. She understood it, for she too felt that it had been too long since their lips had moved together, tasting each other, losing themselves in each other's embrace.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she asked quietly, voice cracking with misuse. Her throat burned with the stale air between them, settling over them and spreading through the entire room in seconds.

His eyes blink closed now, slow, tired. His lip pulled up again, but different. A smirk, not a smile. Not one of his amazing, almost drunken smiles that was just one of the many things she loves about him, that made her fall in love with him. "I think my thoughts are worth a little more than that, but I'll give you a discount." His tone was playful, mocking, but something was hidden behind it. His humor concealed some kind of lingering doubt, a nagging at the back of his mind. His eyes open, and the pain beneath the pools of swirling blue makes her heart ache.

"Tell me what's wrong," she commands softly, knowing he'll give eventually. She doesn't say (with you), because she knows it will just offend him and make it harder for him to open up.

It's almost funny, somehow, her prodding him for what goes on in his vast mind. Usually it's vice versa, he is the open one and she's the one who needs to be pushed, to be guided out.

Since recent events, he's been almost quieter, less intrusive to her, and definitely less forthcoming about himself. And even though she shares, she starts their conversations more than ever, she can't help but wonder if he's pulling away.

Why he would pull away now, of all times, she doesn't understand.

"Nothing," he lies, his eyes clearly averting hers for the first time since she turned to him. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do," she whispers, and his finger stops it's circle on her rib. He flinches, just a little.

He surprises her, pulling her closer when she was fully expecting him to push her away. His arm tightens around her torso, and she swings a leg over and between both of his. The gesture comforts her, calms her mind only slightly. His finger begins tracing the bottom hem of her bra, from where her shoulder blade meets the bed to just below the swell of her left breast.

"I love you," he whispers, nuzzling out of sight into the hair around her neck.

She laughs sardonically. "That's what's wrong? You loving me?"

"No," he whispers from her hair, and she lets her head tilt and fall against his. "It's the fact that no matter what I do, I feel like I can't keep you safe. And I don't know if I could survive losing you. Not again."

"We are merely mortals, we must all face our mortality," she said monotonously. She peeks at him out of the corner of her eye, a smile playing at her lips.

Kisses dust at her neck, soft and fleeting. "Walter?" he asks, but she knows he doesn't need an answer. She closes her eyes, and focuses on his mouth at the nape of her neck, breath hot and wet.

A heat rises, deep within her, and his hand moves from her bra to her stomach, splaying it over the flat expanse of her stomach.

She turns into him, desperate for his lips on hers. His firm hands plant themselves on her waist and pull her on top of him. Her hair waterfalls over them, a golden curtain that lets in just enough light to make the blue in his eyes even more hypnotizing.

Her minds swirls, and they are frozen there: her hands on his cheeks, his hands on her waist, both their bodies pressed together with minimal clothing between them, skins flush against each other.

It takes all her strength to spit out her words, but she's afraid of not saying them, not letting them be heard. "I love you, too," she whispers, leaning in the place one quick kiss on his lips before she continues. "And I won't lose you again, either. The universes owe us."

And with her last statement, he finally smiles. Not a smirk, not a mask, a true, genuine smile. Her heart beats a little faster and she knows he feels it. How could he not, laying like this? His heart pounds in response to hers, and she lets herself return the smile with one of her own, the one she saves for him.

She giggles at the ridiculousness of it all, and he brings a hand up to cradle her neck. One of her hands strokes up and down his jaw before moving up, grazing his ear as it passes, and threading her fingers into his hair.

"There is no way you are a mere mortal," he whispers, breaths intermingling between them.

"It wouldn't be the weirdest thing we've seen," she jokes. "But I'm not convinced you are, either." She leans in, as if to kiss him, but her open mouth hovers above his. "We could always be immortals together," she whispers.

He lifts his mouth towards hers but also hesitates. His tongue swipes over her bottom lip, where she bit it, and she shivers in his hands. "Let's get married." It is not a question, not a request.

She returns the favor, licks his top lip before finally, finally kissing him. His lips respond immediately, and for a moment they both forget the notion.

Only when things excel, move forward, and he's flipped them over does she speak. It takes her a moment to recapture her mouth, but when she does they find each other's gaze. "Okay," she whispers, chest heaving beneath his.

He's about the ask if she's joking when she cuts him off with a very serious "Peter."

"Olivia," he counters, smirking.

"I'm serious."

He smiles even wider. "Yeah?"

She nods once, solidly. "But let's wait to tell Walter. He won't leave us alone about it if we tell him now, and he has other things to focus on."

It's his turn to nod, but he's still smiling. "I love you," he says, almost unknowingly.

She whispers a quick but serious "Love you, too," before their lips find each other again and words are no longer necessary.


End file.
